


Mr. Malfoy Minds the Baby

by Veritas03



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Male Slash, mildly epilogue compliant, smoochfest fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veritas03/pseuds/Veritas03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Potter kids are in a pickle. They’ve been messing about with magic and, as a result, their dad is back in his nappies. Good thing Al’s best friend is Scorpius Malfoy. Scorp’s always going on about how brilliant his father is at curse breaking. If Mr. Malfoy can figure out how to fix this magical mishap, maybe they’ll never need to mention a thing about it to Mum. Or Nana. Or Aunt Hermione. But first things first - hopefully Mr. Malfoy is brilliant at changing diapers. If not, at least they have house-elves at Malfoy Manor, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Malfoy Minds the Baby

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** This is the story I submitted for the 2012 Hd_smoochfest at Live Journal. I had a great prompt to work with (thank you Chloe-Mar!). The fic as posted here is, for the most part, how it appeared when posted for the fest. I have tweaked it a bit and corrected some mistakes. So now, Draco does indeed stimulate Harry’s _prostate_ rather than his prost **r** ate. *shakes head* I’ve also added a bit more adult Harry into the story. Just a bit. This story is Epilogue Compliant to a point. By the time Albus and Scorpius start their first year at Hogwarts, both sets of parents are divorced. Also – I’ve played around a bit with the accepted descriptions of the Potter kids (mainly Lily).  
> I have also been terribly remiss in neglecting to acknowledge my magnificent betas for this story: **Sevfan and 1abeaverhausen**. I owe them both a great deal for the sharing of their support and friendship, as well as their expertise and guidance in the creation of this fic. These ladies really know their stuff! Any remaining issues are a result of my own obstinance.  
>  **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

MR. MALFOY MINDS THE BABY

Draco Malfoy watched his son fidget about the terrace. Scorpius had been late to tea – and still had not sat down to join his father. Draco hadn’t commented upon it. Despite his own father’s many diatribes dating back to before he was Scorpius’ age, Draco didn’t regard being late to tea as a nigh unforgivable breach of “pure-blood tradition.” Besides, there were far too many interesting things in a place like Malfoy Manor to expect a boy who’d just turned twelve to worry about something as mundane as teatime.

"Father,” Scorpius said, working far too hard – in Draco’s estimation – at trying to sound casual, “remember when you said you enjoyed having a baby at the Manor?"

Draco, a consummate Slytherin, did not roll his eyes or give any other outward sign of exasperation at his son’s complete lack of subtlety. The boy had a mind like a steel trap and made top scores in his class during his recently completed first year at Hogwarts; unquestionably a worthy addition to House Ravenclaw. But Scorpius’ formidable intellect was countered by his complete lack of ability to prevaricate or manipulate. Though on the one hand Draco knew most people would view this as an admirable quality, he actually found it a bit unsettling. He was certain that – one day – the Slytherin qualities Scorpius _must_ have inherited from both his parents would kick in. And then Draco would be truly fucked because he would be taken completely unaware.

For the present, it was more than obvious that Scorpius was up to something. Knowing his son as he did, Draco was certain a full explanation would be shortly forthcoming. He took another sip of his tea and let his gaze wander out across the gardens before answering. “Did I say that?”

Scorpius flopped into the seat opposite the little table where Draco sat, blocking his father’s view in an effort to gain his full attention. The slight breeze flipped his hair into his eyes and he brushed at it impatiently. “Yes, Father, you did,” he insisted. “Just last week, after Mother and Roland and the baby returned to France.”

Draco smiled a bit at the thought of Scorpius’ new half-sister. Genevieve was beautiful little thing, with blonde curls and bright blue eyes. Scorpius had been so thrilled at finally becoming a big brother, he had easily forgiven Astoria and her husband for not having a baby boy.  
“Perhaps I did,” Draco admitted. “Why? Are you going to try to talk me into finding a new wife so that we can populate the Manor with more siblings for you?”

“Of course not!” Scorpius said. “I know you’re not interested in having a wife, or you probably would have just stayed with Mother.” 

Scorpius’ gaze shifted suddenly to a point just over his father’s shoulder before snapping back to him again in yet another display of a complete lack of artifice. Draco normally would have been willing to play along until his son made a full confession of whatever he was planning. But Draco’s instinct for survival - still strong despite the number of years that had passed since the Manor had hosted Voldemort and his fanatical disciples – would not allow him to just sit with his back exposed to whatever was making its way across the terrace behind him. He swung around in his chair and stood to face the intruder. He certainly could not have anticipated the sight before him.

The children of Harry Potter stood just a few paces from where they had emerged from the house. They, at least, had the good grace to look abashed at being caught out so quickly. Albus recovered first and schooled his features into a serious, expectant expression – looking even more like his father than he usually did. Draco had become somewhat accustomed to that over the winter break, when Albus and Scorpius – fellow Ravenclaws and new best friends – had insisted on spending as much time together as their families allowed. Still, it was a little disconcerting now, when Albus nodded to him in greeting – taking Draco back to that first day of the past September at platform 9 ¾. Harry Potter had nodded to him, then, with that same, perfunctory gesture. 

Clutching Albus’ hand was Lily Luna. Draco had heard her described as the very image of her mother, but he had never agreed with that assessment. Lily did indeed have Ginevra’s red hair and light brown eyes. That was where the resemblance to her mother ended, however, and Lily became a more a perfect blending of her parents. To Draco, Lily’s features clearly mirrored those of her father – almost as much as Albus’ did. Such a serious little face – fuller, to be sure, than that of the small, eleven-year-old boy Draco had met at the robe shop so many years ago and decidedly feminine. But the jaw line, the firm set of the mouth – even the brow now creased in worry. Those were Harry Potter, absolutely.

The older boy’s features showed undeniable evidence of being related to the Weasley clan, with the sprinkling of freckles across his cheeks and the auburn cast to his untidy Potter hair. James was already tall for his age, putting Draco in mind of his uncle Ron. But it was his carriage that proclaimed him the son of Harry Potter. That air of determination, confidence in a chosen course – how often had Draco observed that in his years of Potter-watching? James, too, greeted Draco with a quick nod, as he shifted the blanket-wrapped bundle he held in his arms.

And then the bluff was revealed. The illusion of James’ equanimity shattered as the bundle began to squirm, the blanket slipped – and a dark-haired baby thrust a little fist up, catching James on the nose. The boy’s cheeks flamed, eyes widened, and Draco was fairly certain he could discern a definite gulp as James’ apparent composure dissolved. Now he looked at Draco with something approaching panic – and almost certainly a plea.

Draco’s mind raced – what child was this in James’ arms? A cousin, perhaps? Were the Potter children baby-sitting? Why would they bring the child here? And why were they all very suddenly looking as if they’d botched a robbery of Gringotts and had goblins hot on their trail??  
Never breaking eye-contact with James, Draco calmly addressed his son. “Scorpius, you hadn’t mentioned you were expecting guests. Of course you are all welcome – including this little one.” He turned to Scorpius then, and added, “I presume this is the babe you were referring to. I only wonder if the child’s parents know about this visit to the Manor?” He’d wager – based upon the guilty look shared by the older children – that the answer to that question was a resounding ‘no.’

Scorpius immediately looked toward the Potters for the answer. “Well, I… suppose.”

It was Albus who stepped forward with an explanation. “The truth is, Mr. Malfoy, I owled Scorpius because we need your help. With the baby, I mean.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “The thing is, the baby is… well, you see…” 

“Oh, EW!!” James exclaimed, holding the child out away from him. “He’s wet!”

The blanket fell away from the baby. Draco could see that the squirming youngster was clothed in what appeared to be a small t-shirt decorated with little pink ponies – an old one of Lily’s he assumed. And the child was definitely leaking from below. Since he was obviously displeased at James holding him at arm’s length, he now began to cry and squirm even more. James’ expression of panic returned in full force.

Draco moved forward, taking the baby from James. “Give him to me,” he said, with authority. Though, evidently, none was needed. James seemed more than happy to hand over the soggy infant. “Dimple!” Draco called out, and a house-elf instantly appeared. “Take this baby and – Merlin’s balls!”

Now Draco held the child out at arm’s length and stared in shock at the green, tear-filled eyes and the lightning bolt scar just visible under the dark fringe. “Po- Potter?”

******

Draco stepped from the Floo, brushing away soot as he looked around the receiving room of the large home Harry Potter had built for his family in Godric’s Hollow. Albus had waited there for him to arrive, but was obviously ready to be about the business of helping James gather clothes and other necessities the children would need for their stay at the Manor.

“I’ll show you to the library so you can talk to Professor Snape,” Albus said, moving to the door.

“No need,” Draco said, following Albus. “I know where the library is. I’ve been here before, remember? When I brought Scorpius to see you during the winter holiday.”

“Oh, right. Okay – I’ll just go get my stuff.” Albus turned and ran up the stairs, evidently taking seriously Draco’s admonition to gather his things quickly so they could return to the Manor as soon as possible. 

Draco walked with haste across the entrance hall, intent on going immediately to the library. His attention caught, however, on the table where several framed photographs displayed the Potter family in various stages of their lives. Draco hesitated only a moment before picking up a photo of Harry – apparently taken within the last few years. The photo-Harry turned his attention to Draco and gave him a friendly grin. Draco smirked and shook his head. Looking into Harry’s smiling face, he remembered the feel of that toned body pressed against his back, strong hands slipping his waist, the tickle of warm breath against his ear, and Harry’s voice as he had whispered, _“You know, Draco, we’re going have to find creative ways to manage some time together once all the children are home for the summer.”_

Draco returned the photo to its place and sighed as he turned once more toward the door to the library. “Mission accomplished, Potter.”

A dry, familiar voice greeted him the moment he entered the library. “Well, this is much sooner than expected,” Severus Snape said. Draco walked to the fireplace and looked up at the portrait of his former Head of House. Snape was leaning very casually back in his chair, booted feet upon his desk – and looking decidedly smug. “Though I’m not at all surprised you’ve come, no doubt seeking my advice.”

Though Draco had sincere respect for Severus Snape, the man’s arrogance had always been unbearable. Death had not diminished it. “Actually, I’m here with the boys to gather what the children will need to stay a few days at the Manor. And Potter’s owl.”

“A few days?” Snape said. “Seems a bit presumptuous that – on your own – you’ll be able to sort things out in so little time.”

“Well, you must have had some confidence in my abilities since you suggested the children contact me,” Draco said. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Actually, it was Albus Severus who put forth the idea of seeking your assistance. Apparently, your son has convinced him there’s not a curse been cast that you can’t counter. I suppose you do have some fair skill with sorting out magical conundrums.” The reluctance with which Snape admitted this was evident in his tone. “I told them they should contact their mother first, of course,” he said. “And do you know – to a one – they seemed relieved that she was out of the country with her new husband and completely unavailable. Not unsurprisingly, I suppose, they do not share my appreciation for her firm approach to discipline.”

Draco knew that Ginny and Dean were in New York. A gallery there was holding a showing of his art, so they had decided to take advantage of that and spend their honeymoon in the city as well. They’d scheduled the wedding for the second week after the boys returned from school, so Ginny had been able to spend a bit of time with them before leaving. The children had, indeed, seemed relieved that their mother was unavailable. Draco couldn’t blame them. In their place, he’d have been reluctant to admit to meddling with magic that had resulted in turning their father into baby.

“I do have a favor to ask,” Draco said. He hadn’t much time. Though he was aware he risked offending the professor with his haste, he continued on. “I would appreciate it if you’d cover for us. You know – if someone comes to the house looking for the family.”

“I’m afraid I will not be able to accommodate you,” Snape said. 

He was certain the old bat took satisfaction in the surprise Draco had been unable to hide. He’d assumed there would be some price to pay for Snape’s assistance. But Draco had been unprepared for this immediate refusal – without any attempt at negotiations. “Severus, please-”

“I will not be able to do that, because you will be taking me to the Manor with you.”

“What?” Draco threw up his hands in exasperation. “I don’t have time for this, Severus.”

“You are correct, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said. “Time is of the essence. You know full well from your _frequent_ visits to this house that an annoying assortment of Gryffindors are forever dropping by to see Potter. We should leave at once.”

“Severus! I can’t take you to the Manor. My father would incinerate you the moment he discovered you there.”

“I’ve heard you tell Potter that your father spends more time out of the country than in it – and you have entire wings of that house that no one has set foot in for years. No one need ever know I was there.”

“Harry would know!” Draco said. “I can’t just remove you from his home without his permission. And besides – we’ve already had this conversation, and he said no.”

“ _Harry_ is in no current condition to object,” Snape said. “There’s nothing he can do about it.”

“Not now, but when he’s restored, he won’t be happy with either of us.”

“Well, I’m sure – since the two of you are on such _excellent_ terms these days – he’ll forgive you in no time,” Snape said derisively. “And I am a portrait. There’s nothing he can do to me.”

Draco smirked and folded his arms across his chest. “He can put you back at Grimmauld Place again. I know how much you enjoyed hanging about in the home of Sirius Black.”

Snape, standing now, leaned forward, hands splayed on his desk. “You will take me with you, or I will proclaim to all who come looking just exactly where Potter and the children are. _And_ wax eloquent on the nature of the _friendship_ the two of you have developed over the past year. At the very least, the children might be interested to know.”

Draco glanced back at the door and lowered his voice, aware that two of those children could be coming back down the stairs at any moment. “Fine! I’ll take you,” Draco said angrily, as he took out his wand and levitated the portrait down from the wall. “But only because I don’t have time to argue with you.” Snape’s smug expression made Draco consider casting something _other_ than the spell to shrink the portrait to a more manageable size for transport. “And just so you know – I think you’re bluffing. I really cannot imagine you discussing with those children anything you _think_ you know about my relationship with Potter.”

Snape snorted. “The obscene racket the two of you make leaves me with little doubt about what you get up to together. Learn to cast a Silencing Charm why don’t you.”

“Oh, I know how! Allow me to demonstrate,” Draco said, wielding his wand once more with great satisfaction. The professor duly silenced, Draco then pocketed the portrait and headed back to meet James and Albus at the Floo. 

James was just coming in the front door when Draco entered the entrance hall. “I sent Dad’s owl on to the Manor,” James explained.

“Perfect,” Draco said, as they walked to the chamber with the Floo. “We’ll send her with some messages to a few key Weasleys, putting about the story of some impromptu excursion your father decided upon.” 

James stopped just at the door and turned to Draco. “Guess you and Dad have been in contact some. Sable seemed to know right away where to go.” Draco didn’t think the boy was trying to be subtle. This wasn’t like Scorpius attempting and failing at subterfuge. James’ tone held a clear question, and Draco wondered if Harry had confided anything to his oldest child. 

_”James is an old soul,”_ Harry had often said. _I mean, I know he’s just a kid – and can be somewhat rambunctious, at that. But sometimes, when he’s quiet and serious… I’d swear I’m looking right into my mum’s eyes.”_

Still, Draco opted for continued discretion. “We have,” he said to James. “We’ve even visited back and forth a bit. He’s been trying to enlist my help with Professor Snape.”

James laughed at the grimace Draco made with his last statement and seemed to accept this explanation. The entire family knew that Harry had been trying for years to get Snape to allow him to write his life’s story. Draco thought it plausible that Harry might have mentioned to James and the others that he’d asked for assistance from another Slytherin. Perhaps Draco had misread him, though, and James hadn’t assumed anything more to the situation.

Draco felt a twinge of disappointment. He almost wished James had voiced some suspicions. Harry and Draco had exhausted the topic of their relationship; how it would be received by their family members; when they should tell everyone, how they should tell everyone, _if_ they should tell everyone. 

Of course, the matter was complicated by the close friendship of Albus and Scorpius. They would be the most likely to react strongly to the idea of their fathers seeing each other romantically. There was just no way to know if that reaction would be supportive or horrified. They certainly didn’t begrudge the boys their friendship – and didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. 

Harry and Draco had been back and forth about it. At any given time, it was Harry having doubts and Draco encouraging trust in their families. Or just as often it was the other way around with Draco expressing reservations, and Harry being excessively Gryffindor, ready to proclaim them to the world and damn the consequences. But Harry – adult Harry – wasn’t here now, and the current circumstances were confusing enough without adding further complications. With a sigh of resignation, Draco followed James into the Floo chamber where Albus awaited them.

******

When they returned to the Manor, Draco took James to his study to create the messages from “Harry” to send out to the family. Draco had several examples of Harry’s hand-writing and was easily able to cast a spell to transform his own elegant script into Harry’s unassuming, slightly messy style. James helped to come up with a destination for the family’s supposed, spur-of-the-moment adventure – something that sounded not too unlikely but would discourage anyone from seeking them out or trying to contact them.

That taken care of, they went in search of the other children. Draco was anxious to have a more detailed discussion of the events that had led to the current state of affairs, but he didn’t think that was likely this evening. Though Lily put on a brave front, it was obvious that she was mortified to have been the one to cast the spell that resulted in Potter’s return to infancy.

The initial discussion of the events had been punctuated with squabbling amongst the siblings – with James predicting dire consequences and centuries-long grounding if Lily didn’t turn her father back to an adult immediately, and Lily wailing that she didn’t know how. Then both of them had turned on Albus as the one who started it all by teaching Lily spells in complete defiance of Ministry rules against underage magic. Draco assumed that she had used Albus’ wand to cast the spell – hoping that a quick _Prior Incantato_ would reveal the last spell performed with the wand. This proved not to be the case, and asking about it had seemed to upset Lily even more. 

“Did you use Dad’s wand?” Albus had asked. Draco had been impressed that – rather than further accusing her – Albus had addressed her with a gentle, even tone – obviously attempting to calm his sister. 

Lily had answered with a vigorous nod of her head. Draco thought she must have been additionally worried about getting into trouble for using her father’s wand without permission. That affirmed, the next question was obvious – where was Harry’s wand? Again, Draco hoped that a _Prior Incantato_ would save the day. Unfortunately, in the confusion of the situation, the children lost track of Harry’s wand, and no one knew where it was. Draco _did not_ bang his head against a hard surface when they had shared this bit of news, nor did he give into the urge to strangle something . He also managed to remind himself that adolescent Potters had the potential to grow beyond being infuriatingly blasé about revered aspects of the Wizarding world – if one only had the patience to wait for them to do so.

In any case, he maintained control of his temper, and the children had managed to put an end to their bickering. Draco was relieved by that. Casting blame only wasted time they hadn’t the luxury of expending. He was as anxious as they were to get the situation sorted. Though Harry was excessively adorable as a baby, Draco was determined to have adult-Harry back as soon as possible. But he would wait until tomorrow to begin work with Lily – and Albus – to determine what magic had been cast. From the free-lance curse-breaking he performed for Bill Weasley, Draco knew – after mis-casting - people were often too upset by the unwelcome results to be able to think clearly through the process that had created them. He would let the children settle in tonight and, hopefully, they could begin to work though the magic tomorrow.

They found Lily, Scorpius, Albus, and the baby in the nursery. Dimple had seen to it that the babe had been adequately fitted with a nappy and clothing. The pink pony t-shirt had been replaced by a pale green one-piece romper in actual baby-size and more befitting a little boy. But Draco would be certain to tell Harry, once he’d been restored to his adult form, how adorable he’d looked adorned with pink ponies.  
The child was currently cooing happily and crawling about the nursery floor. Scorpius and Lily were allowing him to explore and putting soft toys in his way to entertain him. He was not the very young infant Draco had first assumed, but instead appeared to be just shy of a year old. He could not yet walk, but could sit up, crawl, and had been attempting to pull himself up to stand. Draco wondered if they would witness his first steps before they worked out a solution.

James joined the other children on the floor, while Draco took possession of the rocking chair. He eased into the comfort of it with a little pang of longing. He’d spent hours with Scorpius in this chair; rocking him, reading to him, feeding him. Draco acknowledged that he really did miss having a baby in the Manor. But the one currently crawling across the floor to inspect Albus’ trainer would, hopefully, not be staying long.

“Father, Albus and I want to introduce James and Lily to Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Uncle Cosmo’s portrait. Can I take them?” Scorpius asked.

“Is he the pirate?” Lily said, clearly enthralled with the idea.

“The one with the hook?” James asked eagerly. 

The anticipatory expressions of the four young faces were more than Draco could refuse. “Would it make the slightest difference if I point out that pirates were truly barbaric and bloodthirsty?” This, of course, only seemed to incite more enthusiasm for the venture. Draco sighed in a very long-suffering manner and said, “I suppose a visit to Malfoy Manor wouldn’t be complete without a tour of our very own ‘Rogues’ Gallery.’ Very well. But he’s all the way over in the south wing. Dinner will be served soon, so you can’t linger there.” All four children assured him that they would be back as required for the evening meal. Draco gave a small, indulgent roll of his eyes. “Perky!” 

Immediately, an ancient house-elf – who didn’t particularly look as his name implied, but was definitely one of Draco’s favorites – appeared and bowed low before Draco.

“How may I serve Master Draco?” the creature asked.

“Take the children to the south gallery,” Draco instructed. “They may pass the time there until dinner. And,” Draco said, standing and reaching in the pocket of his robe, “take this portrait of Professor Snape and hang it there as well.” 

Draco had forgotten to tell the children that Professor Snape’s portrait had made the journey to the Manor with them, and he felt a bit guilty about that. James and Albus exchanged surprised looks, and Lily actually gasped. He supposed it must seem bold to them that he would remove the portrait from their home. He felt compelled to explain. “Professor Snape was being a bit cantankerous,” Draco said.

James snorted. “Like _that_ never happens.”

“He insisted on coming with us – and threatened to give us away to anyone who came looking,” Draco said. “I didn’t have time to argue with him, so I brought him along. Your father can sort him out when this is all resolved.” The children seemed satisfied, though Lily’s enthusiasm over meeting the Pirate Malfoy seemed to have dampened. “Meanwhile, Professor Snape will, no doubt, feel right at home among the scoundrels in the South Gallery. Go ahead, then, Perky.”

The house-elf bowed again and extended his hands to the children. They each grabbed onto a finger and were gone in an instant. The baby on the floor squealed in what Draco assumed was surprise. Green eyes blinked up at him and the child gave him a bit of a slobbery smile. The twist in his chest wasn’t the same as the one Draco usually got when Harry smiled at him – but it warmed his heart nonetheless. Just then, Dimple appeared, baby bottle in hand.

“I’ll take that, Dimple,” Draco said. “And I can put him down for the night after he finishes the bottle.”

“Very good, Master Draco,” Dimple replied. “Dimple has prepared a cot in Master’s chamber, as requested.”

“Thank you.” Draco nodded to Dimple and the house-elf blinked out of sight. The baby squealed again and then giggled.

“I know,” Draco said, bending to lift the baby into his arms. “House-elves are funny little things, aren’t they?” He settled the two of them into the rocker and put the bottle to the baby’s lips. Little Harry immediately latched onto the nipple and wrapped chubby fingers around the bottle, one of them settling over Draco’s hand.

“Well,” Draco said softly. “It’s just the two of us.” The baby, drinking happily from the bottle, did not respond – but watched Draco very intently. The big, green eyes captivated him – not unlike their adult version of the same gaze. Draco smiled at the baby, shaking his head. “Only you, Potter. How do you get yourself into these things?” Again, the baby made no reply. His only sounds were the soft sighs of contentment as he fed. Draco shifted just the slightest bit so that he was able to lean down to place a kiss on the baby’s forehead. He nuzzled the soft, dark hair and was unable to resist placing more kisses there. Again Draco felt that almost-ache to have another child of his own to love and care for. And holding this tiny version of _his_ Harry made him realize anew that he was in love with the man and wanted nothing more than to combine their lives and families. And perhaps to add to their family as well.

The bottle had been drained and the baby gave a deep sigh. Eyelids drooped in sleepy satisfaction, the baby no doubt lulled by a full tummy, the gentle rocking, and the warm, safe embrace of the man holding him. Draco smiled down at the child. “No need for a bedtime story then, little one?” Draco whispered. He set the bottle aside and stood from the chair. As he carried the baby out of the nursery, he said, “Well, I suppose tales of dashing heroes and magical adventures can wait for another time. We’ll settle you down in my room for the night.”

They reached Draco’s suite and walked through the sitting room to the bed chamber. Dimple had set up a cot for the baby, and Draco gently lowered him into it. He stood for a few moments rubbing the baby’s back and enjoying the contentment that settled over him just like the soft blanket he’d spread over the child.

Finally, Draco stepped away. “Dimple,” he called softly and the house-elf immediately appeared. “I’ll leave him in your care, Dimple, until I turn in for the night.”

“Yes, Master Draco.”

Draco bent once more over the cot and brushed a hand gently though the dark hair. “Good night, Harry,” he said. “Sweet dreams.”

******

Despite his earlier contentment, Draco’s sleep that night was not restful. Worry about Harry, and his eagerness to have the man he’d been romantically involved with for several months back in adult form, gave him fitful dreams. Not that they were unpleasant. They were mostly filled with scenes from his life since the beginning of his relationship with Harry. Finally, at an hour of the morning which no one, in Draco’s opinion, should be awake, he gave up on sleep and just lay abed with thoughts of Harry sifting through his mind…

The Hogwarts Express had disappeared around the corner and Potter had remained standing there, hand raised in farewell. Draco knew exactly how he felt – as if a part of him had been yanked away and his heart at serious risk of breaking. 

He’d been waiting for Astoria. She’d seen Scorpius board the train, then excused herself to the loo. The first trimester morning-sickness was the only real evidence of her condition. She definitely wasn’t showing yet. She had chosen not to tell Scorpius that he would be a big brother before the end of the school year, instead making this visit about preparing him for his first year at Hogwarts.

Crowds of relatives were slowly making their way out of the station and Draco watched them absently, but was far too distracted by his own despondent mood to be paying much attention. Then a shoulder bumped somewhat forcefully into his and jarred him from his reverie. Zacharias Smith stood well into Draco’s space, sneering in contempt.

“Out of the way, Malfoy,” Smith had said belligerently.

“Grow up, Smith,” Draco said, dismissing the idiot. “And run along – I doubt you’ve forgotten how.” And then Draco turned away. Smith may have left immediately or may have lingered. Draco had no idea because his attention had been drawn to Harry Potter, standing just a few paces away. Obviously, he’d seen the exchange with Smith. It was only when Potter approached that Draco realized Smith had moved on.

“You okay?” Harry had asked. “Smith is still pretty much of a prick.”

Draco had half-smirked at him. “More like a load that should have been swallowed.”

Harry had grinned in return. “Or better spat, maybe.” Then Harry got the strangest expression on his face – as if he’d been surprised at his own boldness.

Unable to resist the chance to provoke Harry Potter – it had been years, after all, since an opportunity had presented itself – Draco had leaned closer and, smirk gone sultry, had asked, “So, Potter. You’re a spitter, then?”

Harry’s mouth fell open a bit, and Draco felt deliciously rewarded. Then Potter turned the tables on him and, grinning wickedly, said, “Well, I suppose it depends. You know?”

Harry’s flirtatious response took Draco by complete surprise – and grasping about for a witty reply. Whatever he might have finally decided upon was made moot by the arrival of Potter’s daughter and a small Weasley, jumping about in excitement. Their lively chatter revealed that they were being allowed to spend the weekend with their grandparents.

“Hello,” Lily said, a look of open curiosity turned upon Draco. 

“Hello,” he answered, inclining his head toward her in a quick nod. 

“My daughter, Lily,” Harry said to him. “And this is Hugo Weasley – Ron and Hermione’s son.” Draco had greeted Hugo politely, and Harry completed the introduction. “Kids, this is Mr. Malfoy.”

Hugo offered a quiet ‘hello’ to Malfoy, before turning to Harry. “Uncle Harry, Dad said we can stop by the shop before we leave town.”

“Thought we might have lunch before you take the kids to the Burrow,” Ron said, joining the group. “Malfoy,” he added, with another nod for Draco to add to his collection.

The children voiced their avid approval of this plan, as well as their desire to put it immediately into action. Ron allowed Hugo to pull him away toward that end, leaving Harry and Lily with Draco.

“Well,” Harry said after a moment. “It was good to, um… talk to you, Malfoy.”

“Do you want to come with us to Diagon Alley to have lunch?” Lily asked.

“Thank you, Miss Potter, for your kind invitation,” Draco said with another smile and a small bow. “I’m afraid I have a prior engagement and therefore, regretfully, must decline.”

Lily smiled back at him, appearing delighted to be spoken to in such a formal manner. “That’s okay.”

“Guess we’d better catch up to Ron and Hugo,” Harry said. Then he held his hand out, and it had seemed the most natural thing in the world for Draco to take hold of it and return the handshake. “See you, Malfoy.”

There are times when getting caught in the act of arse-ogling is beneficial. At a club, for example, when looking to pull. There are other times – for instance, standing on platform 9 ¾ at King’s Cross Station in the middle of crowds of fellow parents – when it’s just embarrassing. But how was he ever to assume that Harry Potter would do other than instantly put Draco out of his mind? He’d imagined he was quite safe in taking a moment to admire the sight of Potter’s delectable, denim-clad arse.

But Draco had been caught – and smirked at - before Potter turned back around to continue on his way. Clearly, Draco had been out of practice at stealth-ogling. Or any kind of ogling, to be honest. His focus for much of the last eleven years had been on being a parent and trying to repair the damage he and his family had done to the Malfoy name during the war. Aside from a bit of a wild streak when his divorce had been finalized, Draco had kept his affairs brief and discrete. And infrequent.

Draco was aware that, before he’d married Ginny Weasley, Harry had dated (as exhaustively documented by the _Daily Prophet_ ) a host of wizards, as well as witches. Along with the rest of Wizarding Britain, Draco had avidly, if covertly, devoured all the details (whether valid or not) that the _Prophet_ had published regarding Harry’s romantic assignations. The fact that they involved men as well as women had been of particular interest to Draco – and had provided a fair amount of inspiration for his wank sessions. However, not much had been written about Harry Potter’s love life in the six years since his divorce from Ginny. Either the papers were keeping mum in deference to the children (unlikely), or Harry had learned to be extremely discrete. Or Harry’s sex life was as pitiful as Draco’s.

Harry’s owl arrived the following week, inviting Draco to join him for dinner to “discuss a business proposition.” Admittedly, Draco had let his imagination run wild. Was this Potter’s ploy to create another opportunity for flirtatious banter – or more? Draco had resorted to creating little tasks to keep himself from immediately affixing a reply of acceptance to his owl and sending it off in all haste. It had been exceedingly difficult to keep occupied while he waited an appropriate amount of time before he sent his response. But, if nothing else, he was now in possession of the exact number of items in the main wing of the Manor displaying the Malfoy crest, and he’d learned that he really was far too old to slide down the banister.

The dinner had been a quiet, pleasant affair with only the two of them at Harry’s house in Godric’s Hollow. Harry had explained, when Draco arrived, that it was Ginny’s weekend to have Lily. The children resided largely with Harry as Ginny’s job as Quidditch correspondent for the _Prophet_ involved frequent travel. She kept a flat in London. Lily stayed every other weekend with her, unless Ginny was on assignment. 

Draco had been surprised at the elegance of the place. He’d somehow always pictured Harry in an abode resembling the home of his beloved Weasleys. Even more surprising was that Harry cooked and cleaned the house with only assistance from the children. ‘It’s good for them to have a few chores,’ Harry had said. Draco could not imagine existence without house-elves – a thought that amused Harry when Draco voiced it. Harry admitted that, unlike his friend Hermione, he was not opposed to the idea of having house-elves. 

“It’s just that, well, I’ve never really felt like I needed any other help. I’m pretty handy with a wand,” Harry had said in a tone that lacked any hint of irony.

Draco had laughed at that. “Potter, I can’t decide if that was an attempt at double entendre or massive understatement.”

Harry spent an obvious moment or two rethinking his previous comment. His blush indicated that he’d figured out what Draco was referring to. That had been the only sign, however, that Harry might have been a bit embarrassed. Again, as he had at the train station, Harry had adopted that wicked grin and said, “It wasn’t double entendre. I tend to be pretty direct when it comes to things like that.”

Unfortunately, a bell had sounded just at that moment, indicating that Harry was receiving a call through the Floo. He excused himself and left to take the call, taking with him the opportunity for further discussion of any more ‘things like that.’ And then they had dined, and Draco tried not to be too disappointed when it turned out that Harry really had invited him there to discuss business.

It was nothing to do with curse-breaking and was actually more in the vein of a favor. Draco had been well aware – as had anyone who kept abreast of Potter-related business – that Harry still insisted, from time to time, upon petitioning to have Severus Snape’s portrait placed in the office of the Headmaster at Hogwarts. Despite the man being posthumously awarded an Order of Merlin, the Board of Governors of the school had obstinately refused to allow his portrait to be hung along with all the previous headmasters and headmistresses. Harry seemed certain that this could be accomplished – if only Severus would allow him to write and publish the story of his life.

After the meal, he had even taken Draco into the library to discuss the matter with the portrait of the professor. Draco had found the ensuing conversation vastly amusing – though he hid it out of deference to Harry’s sincere conviction about the matter. Snape, irritable as ever, was obviously not amused. 

Harry had created quite a lucrative career for himself, writing and publishing stories of the war – biographies of the unsung heroes. Snape voiced his suspicion that Harry’s success was based largely upon his status as the Savior of the Wizarding world and the unwavering devotion of his fan base established well before the war. Harry took no offense to this and seemed to have heard it all before – and Draco suspected that Snape didn’t really believe it himself. Severus did insist on pointing out the irony that Potter’s effort to divert the attention from himself by writing these biographies and encouraging appreciation of other heroes of the war had only increased his fame. Potter merely rolled his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. 

Since it was apparent that no progress with the professor would be made that night, Harry and Draco had retired to the living room. Draco accepted Harry’s offer of a drink. They sat on the sofa together – though practically on opposite ends. The conversation was mainly a continuation of what they’d begun at dinner: getting caught up on their lives since the war, hopes for their children, amusement that their sons had both been placed in Ravenclaw. Though he was enjoying talking with Harry, there was nothing there for Draco to construe as flirtatious.

So he had sat, taking in all the details about the man Harry had grown into. It had been years since Draco had first admitted to himself that he found Harry attractive. At that moment, Harry was _exceedingly_ attractive. The casual Muggle clothing he wore flattered his form – obviously Harry took very good care of himself. The dark hair was still a bit messy, but that didn’t keep Draco from itching to touch it. Harry’s hands were deliciously tempting, grasping his glass or gesturing to emphasize some point. His voice, deeper and richer than in their youth, was filled with a friendly warmth that had never been a part of their previous verbal exchanges. As Draco sat observing Harry, he realized all this looking would never be enough. He wanted those hands to touch him, that warm gaze to heat with desire.

When Harry offered to refill his glass, Draco knew it would be a mistake. He couldn’t risk further lowering his inhibitions and possibly acting on his desire for Harry. The evening had been enjoyable, but there had really been nothing to indicate Harry was interested in anything other than Draco’s assistance with Snape and – perhaps – something approaching friendship.

“No, thank you,” Draco had said, placing his glass on the table in front of the sofa. “I really should be going.” He stood, and Harry followed suit. “I don’t really know if I’ll be able to help you convince Snape. He doesn’t seem that interested in being placed at Hogwarts, so there’s really nothing to motivate him to having his life story told.”

“But people need to know about his sacrifice,” Harry said, obviously passionate about this topic. “About his bravery.”

“I agree with you,” Draco said. “And I’ll try to help, if I can. If you still want me to.”

“I do want you to,” Harry said, sounding as if this was the most important thing he’d ever said to Draco. His gaze was so sincere, and Draco lost himself in it. “I definitely want you to,” Harry said. His voice was subdued now, and he seemed equally unable to look away. 

The desire Draco had been hoping to see a hint of all evening was suddenly there. Still, he was unable to make a move toward Harry – afraid of making himself vulnerable in this way. Just when he had decided that he must look away, move away, he felt Harry’s hand touch his, entwining their fingers. He could have resisted the gentle tug – but had absolutely no desire to do so. Instead, he found himself so close to Harry that the heat of their bodies mingled – though they actually touched only at their joined hands. 

“Draco,” Harry whispered.

And then they were touching everywhere. Draco slipped an arm around Harry to bring him closer so that their bodies seemed to meet at the same time as their lips. The kiss was breathless and urgent – as if they believed that if they didn’t claim each other right then, there would never be another chance. So they had taken that chance – and never looked back...

Draco threw off the covers and bolted from his bed. He strode into the ensuite and over to the sink. Turning on the tap, he splashed the cool water across his face. He hadn’t seen Harry in the three weeks since the boys had been back from Hogwarts. They’d nodded to each other across the platform when the Hogwarts Express arrived to bring the students home for the summer. But between Ginny’s wedding and Astoria’s visit there’d been no opportunity for Harry and Draco to be together. They hadn’t even owled, for fear that their messages might be intercepted by Albus or Scorpius – the boys assuming an arriving Potter or Malfoy owl would be bringing a message for them.

A noise from the bedroom drew Draco’s attention and reminded him that Harry was here with him now. Only this was a pint-sized Harry that, for all intents and purposes, was a completely different being from the man he was in a relationship with. Draco toweled the water off his skin and went back into the bedroom. 

He walked immediately to the little cot to find the baby sitting up, chewing happily on the ear of the blue dragon plushie Draco had placed beside him as he slept. Little Harry gurgled happily at the sight of Draco and held up one hand in a bid to be picked up. His other hand held fast to the dragon, keeping the ear tucked into his mouth.

Draco’s heart warmed instantly at the sight of the little boy. He picked up the child and kissed the soft cheek, earning a giggle. Taking hold of the dragon’s soggy ear, he pulled it from the baby’s mouth. “Careful with that, Potty, I had it as a child,” Draco said, then summoned the house-elf. “Dimple,” he said, handing over the baby. “Harry definitely needs a dry nappy, and he appears to be teething. Find something to soothe his gums so poor Henri doesn’t become a chew toy.”

******

James and Scorpius were playing with the baby at one end of the large drawing room, while Draco attempted to pry information out of Lily and Albus regarding the de-aging of their father. They were obviously resigned to the fact that they required the help of a more mature magic user. Getting them to trust that he would make no judgments – or turn them over to the Ministry officials that monitored and dealt with underage magic – was something else.

Draco was not particularly surprised that the family had not been contacted by the Ministry. Since Lily was under eleven, the Ministry probably assumed some accidental magic had occurred, and that Harry had taken care of it. That sort of thing was notoriously difficult to monitor in Wizarding families because of the number of magic users in the household. Draco had benefited from that himself as a child – as had many pure-blood children. Between parents, older siblings, other relatives, and house-elves it was more difficult to trace magic to a specific source. 

But there was something going on that the children seemed very reluctant to divulge. And Draco was practically a stranger to them. He’d had the opportunity to get know Albus a bit, but he’d really only met Lily and James on a few occasions – and had never spent any real time in their company. If they weren’t going to trust him, this was a waste of time. After several attempts to draw out the full story, Draco reluctantly offered a suggestion.

“Look, I’m wondering if you might feel more comfortable talking to someone else about this,” he said. “Someone else in your family, perhaps. What about your Aunt Hermione?”

“NO!!” the children shouted in unison – and Draco was taken aback by their vehemence. 

Albus, looking a bit sheepish, explained. “Mr. Malfoy, we know Aunt Hermione’s really smart and all, but… I don’t know. Dad could have aged enough to start Hogwarts again by the time she finished lecturing us.”

“Aunt Hermione would be worse than Mum and Nana put together,” James said. He and Scorpius had evidently been drawn into the conversation by the recent outburst. James settled on the floor with the baby on his lap. “And that rules out Uncle Ron, too. He’d just tell Aunt Hermione.”

“Well, ignoring for the moment that a lecture might just be in order,” Draco said pointedly, “what about Bill? He’s the curse-breaker in the family, correct?”

“He and Fleur are visiting her family,” James said. “Won’t be back for another couple of weeks, at least.”

“Well, seems you’re stuck with me, then,” Draco said. He caught himself running a hand through his hair in frustration – and realized it was something Harry often did. Though the children were all watching him in anticipation, he doubted they had connected Draco’s use of one of their father’s trademark gestures with anything other than coincidence – if they noted it at all.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Albus said in a very quiet and serious voice, “you will be able to change him back, right? And… he’ll be okay?”

Draco didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t want to make false promises, nor did he want Albus to feel that his question hadn’t been given serious consideration. And, truthfully, with magic, there never really was an ‘everything will turn out alright’ guarantee. Still, Draco felt genuinely confident enough to give some reassurance. “This is the kind of situation I often deal with in the work I do with your Uncle Bill. I honestly believe that we will be able to restore your father to his previous state – and with no harm done. Or, none that can’t be undone. But if we’re to accomplish this, you’re going to have to stop being evasive and give me something to work with. I promise you – I want to help. But you’ve got to be more forthcoming.” 

Lily and Albus looked at each other. And at the baby. And at James and Scorpius. And anywhere that wasn’t Draco. All they’d told him so far was that Albus had been showing Lily some of the first-year spells, and she’d mimicked his movements with her toy wand. Then, she’d somehow got her hands on Harry’s wand and practiced on her own with it.

“Come on, guys,” James said, unable to take the tense silence any longer. “I want to see Dad and go home. Not that it isn’t brilliant being here, too, Mr. Malfoy,” James hastily assured Draco.

“I understand,” Draco said. “You’ve been at school most of the year, and you just want to be at your own home, among your own things. I remember what that was like.”

“I want to see Dad, too,” Lily added quietly. “I miss him.”

Draco hesitated, unsure how the gesture would be received, but then put his arm around Lily’s shoulders and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring hug. She gave him a small, shy smile in return. “Then let’s figure out how to get him back, shall we?” Draco said. Lily nodded, the Potter determination evident in her expression. Draco couldn’t help but smile. “Alright,” he said. “You say you were casting first-year spells?”

“Yes,” Lily said. “The ones Albus taught me.” Albus slumped in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, obviously not happy to have attention turned to him.

“Well, Albus,” Draco began, “from what Scorpius has told me, the first-year spells are the same as they’ve been for centuries. Nothing new.”

Albus nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And I don’t recall anything that would come close to this result in intent. Not in any year, really. Although,” Draco said, “sixth-years learn Human Transformation.”

“What’s that?” Lily asked.

“That’s like when Dad told us the story about the professor who turned himself into a chair,” James told her. “Remember?”

Lily thought it over for a moment, and then shook her head. “I don’t remember that story.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway,” Albus said, finally venturing back into the conversation. “I don’t know any sixth-year spells.”

Albus’ tone still sounded a bit petulant, and he had continued to slump down into his chair. Draco was more and more convinced that Albus knew much more about this than he had yet revealed. Well, if Albus knew something about it, that meant Scorpius knew it, too. Sure enough – a glance at his son’s face revealed that he was watching Albus intently. Albus wasn’t looking at Scorpius, though, so he was missing the pleading look and the lip bitten in concern.

“What’s wrong with his face?” Lily asked.

Draco began to answer regarding what he assumed was Lily’s reference to his son’s expression, when a foul, foul odor permeated the immediate vicinity. James gagged as he and Scorpius both scrambled away from the baby. Little Harry didn’t seem disconcerted by their abandonment. He was concentrating extremely hard on something else, if the flushed, pinched expression on his face was anything to go by. Draco stood quickly and called out, “Dimple!!” He assumed no further instruction would be needed as he joined the older children in a mad, hasty evacuation of the drawing room. 

In the entrance hall, they all stood, taking deep breaths of clean, un-befouled air. Scorpius and Albus decided a further retreat out to the gardens was required and ran off with Lily chasing behind them. 

Draco, feeling a bit nauseated, muttered, “Should have kept those badges from fourth year,” and decided the idea of a stroll among the rose bushes had merit. James fell in beside him, and he noticed that the boy was snickering. He recalled that most thirteen-year-old boys had a less than refined sense of humor and shook his head indulgently. 

When James, still chuckling, said, “Potter stinks!” Draco realized the boy had overheard his muttered comment – and had understood the reference. He was surprised by this, and supposed he should feel some shame. James though, didn’t seem to harbor any resentment and seemed quite amused. He continued to giggle as he made his way beside Draco out to the terrace.

******

When a light rain shower began mid-day, the children disappeared into the house – literally. They didn’t show up for lunch, and Perky informed Draco that the young master had requested sandwiches in the conservatory. Of course, when Draco and little Harry went looking for them there, they were long gone. It could have been that the children were distracted by the many wonders of the Manor, but Draco had a feeling they were avoiding him.

Draco was not truly concerned that the spell that had transformed Harry into an infant – whatever it turned out to be – could not be countered. Even though Harry had mentioned that all of his children seemed to have inherited a fair share of his magical acuity, Draco doubted that any of them could have – by accident – managed a very complicated spell. So, returning Harry to his adult form would not likely prove too difficult. It was only a question of figuring out how the transformation had been achieved in the first place and then, more or less, working backward.

Draco’s current state of irritation was not inspired by concern that Harry might remain a baby indefinitely. It was the fact that the children did not seem to share his growing urgency to have Harry restored that Draco found exasperating. Instead of working with him to resolve the issue, they were off, Merlin knew where, exploring the Manor.

The baby seemed to pick up on Draco’s frustration and became somewhat fussy. While the rocking chair provided comfort to both of them, only Harry fell asleep. Draco laid the child in the cot there in the nursery, leaving him in the care of Dimple.

While Draco _had_ in fact enjoyed having a baby at the Manor when little Genevieve had come with her parents to welcome Scorpius home from Hogwarts, he had not been solely responsible for her. Though the Potter children – and even Scorpius – all seemed willing to help with Baby Harry, the bulk of his care had fallen mainly to Draco. Even with house-elf assistance, Draco found himself somewhat drained. He decided some time to himself, perhaps a shower, might revitalize him.

He walked through his bedroom on the way to the shower and was almost tempted to have a nap instead. Deciding upon a compromise of sorts, he filled the tub for a relaxing soak. The warm water quickly worked to ease his tension and lighten his mood. Of course, it also brought more thoughts of Harry – pleasant ones, since this was an activity they enjoyed together. Not often, of course. Only when Harry had weekends alone, and Draco risked staying over with him. Harry rarely stayed at the Manor – and never, of course, if the older Malfoys were in residence. 

Admittedly, there had been an initial excitement in clandestine meetings and sharing the secret of their relationship only with each other. But they had both been pleased to discover that their feelings went beyond the momentary thrill of a fleeting affair. Harry and Draco had fallen in love and were only trying to figure out how to proceed from there.

They both knew that a major challenge to their relationship could come from their families and friends. Harry had firmly stated that friends who wouldn’t accept them as a couple were not true friends, and Draco had agreed. Families were a different matter. And they both felt that the most important people in the equation were the children. Neither man had engaged in a real relationship since becoming single again. Though Ginny and Astoria had remarried, the children had never seen their fathers with anyone else. 

Draco sank further into the fragrant warmth of the bath, wishing Harry could be there with him. And not for some stolen moments only. Having all the children together at the Manor was allowing Draco to imagine how they might all come together as one family, and he wanted Harry to experience this as well. If Harry’s children could seek out Draco’s help, surely they could accept him as someone their father could depend upon. Someone more than a friend.

Draco sighed as he closed his eyes. Thinking further about this was only defeating the purpose of taking the bath in the first place. He had wanted to relax and escape for a little while. Draco tried to clear his mind of everything – but Harry stubbornly remained there. And he was wet and warm and slick and covered with bubbles... 

”I think we should start by telling Weasley,” Draco had said lazily one afternoon, as he traced the soap bubbles sliding along Harry’s arm. He leaned back against Harry’s chest and turned his head so that he could place kisses along the strong, stubble-covered jaw. “After that,” he said between kisses, “everyone else should be easy.”

“Why do you always refer to Ron as ‘Weasley’ – as if he’s the only one?” Harry had asked, stroking a soft, soapy flannel down Draco’s chest – as if the purpose here was actually bathing. “There are several others, you know. Why is he always _THE_ Weasley?”

“Because your ex-wife is ‘Ginevra’ and your ex-mother-in-law is ‘Molly’ – although I can’t imagine myself ever calling her just ‘Molly’ to her face, of course.” He grabbed Harry’s hand and tried to push it farther down his chest, below the water level. Harry did not allow it, though.

“If you think I’m going to stroke your cock while you talk about my ex-wife and mother-in-law, you are… depraved,” Harry said.

“Point,” Draco conceded. “Where was I? Oh yes, why Weasel is The Weasley. And by the way,” Draco said, twisting his neck around so that he could look more directly at Harry. “I still think I deserve points for no longer calling him ‘Weasel.’”

“You just did,” Harry pointed out, placing a perfunctory kiss on Draco’s nose. “So that negates any points you might have earned.”

“Fine!” Draco said. “But I’m still ahead.”

“No doubt,” Harry replied – and Draco was certain that an eye roll had accompanied the comment.

“Anyway, let’s see… Bill is ‘Bill’ because he’s the only decent one of the lot, and Percy is ‘Prissy’ – and don’t try to deny that you call him that, too.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry said. This time he kissed Draco’s shoulder – his lips obviously curved in a smile as he did so.

“And George is ‘The Master of Mayhem’ and Charlie is ‘His Royal Hotness.’” Draco smirked when Harry’s snickering at George’s sobriquet suddenly stopped. Harry grabbed him around the waist and, sloshing water out of the tub, flipped them around. Draco couldn’t really complain as this resulted in Harry on top of him, straddling his thighs. Of course, the best part of this new position was the suddenly close proximity of their pricks.

“I would prefer another nickname for Charlie, if you don’t mind,” Harry said, pointedly. “Something more like ‘Dragon-obsessed and Unavailable’ or ‘Not As Hot As My Current Boyfriend.’”

Draco slid his hands down Harry’s slick back and squeezed his arse. “You really haven’t got the knack for nicknaming, Potter. Leave it to the professionals, please. And ‘Dragon-obsessed’ could work in my favor, you realize.”

“I’ve got something else that could work in your favor,” Harry said, and rotated his hips so that his hardening cock slid against Draco’s. 

“Hmmmm, do tell,” Draco said. He gripped Harry’s arse and pulled him closer. The soapy water eased the slide of their hard lengths against one another, intensifying the feel of it, and they both gasped in pleasure.

“Well, I’ve got a couple of things really,” Harry said, his breath catching as he leaned in to nip at Draco’s mouth.

“I’m actually very fond of _all_ your things,” Draco teased in his best sultry voice as he slipped a finger deeper to stroke across Harry’s entrance.

“I assure you that – aahh – all my things… reciprocate your regard.” Harry bit at Draco’s shoulder, and he seemed torn between rubbing their cocks together and pressing back against Draco’s fingers.

Draco raised his hips as he cupped Harry’s arse with both hands. The movement pressed their cocks together again, the sensation stealing Draco’s breath. Once more he slipped his fingers deeper into the cleft of Harry’s arse, this time penetrating the tight ring.

“Oh yeah,” Harry breathed. “Want to feel you… oh!... inside. Now, Draco!”

“So demanding,” Draco said, and plunged two fingers into Harry causing him to shudder and make the sexiest sounds Draco had ever heard. “And loud.” He bit and licked and kissed Harry’s throat, causing the erotic sounds to continue. “And tight.”

“Just shut up and fuck me, Malfoy.” Harry lifted his body and reached for Draco’s hard-on, positioning it at his entrance. He moaned again as he worked himself down on it. Draco grasped his hips and held on as Harry fucked himself hard on Draco’s cock.

He lifted his hips to thrust up into Harry, not caring that the water churned and splashed out over the sides of the tub. One of Harry’s hands clutched at Draco’s shoulder, his nails digging into the flesh as he braced himself there. With his other hand, Harry stroked his own erection, matching the rhythm he’d set with his body.

Harry moved with total abandon – and Draco loved it. This vision of his lover wild with arousal amplified the sensation of his hard-on being stroked and grasped within Harry’s tight heat. Draco slammed his hips up, driving his cock into Harry. The resulting shout and deep shudder let Draco know that he’d hit Harry’s prostate, and he was able to find the angle that allowed him to target it a few more times before Harry came – explosively. The sight and feel of Harry’s orgasm triggered Draco’s. The two men clutched at each other as they took harsh deep breaths, foreheads pressed together and eyes closed to shut the rest of the world out of this moment.

******

The orgasm Draco achieved alone in his bath had been nowhere near as satisfying as the remembered one with Harry. After that bath, they had lain in bed, sharing sleepy kisses and lazy conversation. But right now Draco had never felt more alone, and he was that much more determined to figure out how to bring Harry back to him. He just had to get the children to cooperate.

Draco was determined to make some headway with the situation before the evening meal. In fact, he’d decided there would be no evening meal until he’d received some answers. Lily and James had been the first ones to make their way to the dining room. Draco was waiting and provided Lily with ink and parchment so she could write a list of the spells she had been practicing. He knew that the list _should_ include the same spells he had learned so many years ago when he was a first year. Still, it was a place to start. He considered asking James to sit with Lily as she made the list to assist with spelling if she needed it. He decided, however, that seeing how Lily spelled the words might provide a clue if she had _misspoken_ a word. Again, it was hard for Draco to imagine any of the first-year spells being miscast so badly that they would result in the de-aging of a grown wizard.

“James, I think it would be best if you and I returned soon to your house to search again for your father’s wand,” Draco said. “If we can find it, it could make our task of determining what spell was cast much, much easier.” Lily had looked up at this suggestion, but when she saw that Draco had noticed, quickly returned her gaze to her task. Once more, Draco had the feeling that there was something more to the story that Lily wasn’t telling.

“Okay,” James said. “Course, we looked under the couches and stuff in the library, but we didn’t find it there.”

Albus and Scorpius had just entered the dining room, and Draco had spared them a brief glance. Not so brief that he didn’t notice the return of Albus’ look of guilt. Draco would get to that soon, but for the moment his attention was on what James had just revealed.

“The library?” Draco asked. Of course, he knew even as he said it that the incident must have occurred in the library – and he wanted to kick himself for not having asked before where Lily and Harry had been when she had cast the spell.

“Yeah,” James said. “That’s where they were when Dad was changed.”

Draco was counting to ten in his head and trying very hard to contain his irritation. He was not completely successful, for when Albus appeared to be backing toward the door, Draco pointed toward a chair and shouted, “Sit!!” Albus and Scorpius both moved quickly to obey. He paced for a few moments, then stopped behind his own chair and gripped the wood. He supposed, in the long run, Harry would prefer that he strangle the chair back, rather than any of his offspring.

When he thought he could manage it calmly, Draco addressed them. “Potter children, when I asked you, repeatedly, for information about the incident – any information – that might prove helpful in resolving this issue, identifying the scene of the crime should have been one of the obvious bits to include. Particularly since the room in question houses the portrait of a particularly ill-tempered, yet powerful former headmaster of the school of _magic_ which you attend. Someone who could, quite easily, identify any spell that had been cast.” The room seemed particularly quiet when Draco finished his statement – possibly because the volume of his voice had increased as he had continued.

Into that silence, brave, fool-hardy, young Albus Potter ventured to quietly say, “Well… you didn’t ask.”

Draco was certain the wood of the chair back cracked a bit when he tightened his grip even more. He noticed that Scorpius seemed torn between banging his head on the table and reaching out to smack Albus. 

“An oversight, Albus. Thank you _so much_ for pointing it out to me.” Draco relinquished his death grip on the chair and stepped away from the table. “Pardon me, while I have a word with Professor Snape.”

He Apparated to the south gallery and quickly found Snape’s portrait. Empty.

“Fuck!!” His shout reverberated around the gallery, rousing the other portraits there. Rather than seeming offended – as the portraits in other, more respectable areas of the Manor might have been – the motley assemblage in the south gallery clamored with interest and encouragement. 

One boisterous voice rang out over the others. Great- (and an extended number of greats in accompaniment) Uncle Cosmo Malfoy called out, sounding entirely too delighted by Draco’s ire. “Ahoy there, youngster! What be the need of your aggrieved racket?”

Draco strode over to the portrait of a man dressed in flamboyant, seventeenth century garb that clearly identified him as the pirate he was purported to have been. Of course, everyone in the family knew that the real reason Cosmo Malfoy resided in the Rogues’ Gallery had less to do with his illicit activities upon the high seas and more to do with the fact that he had, as an adolescent, been sorted into House Gryffindor.

“Where is Severus Snape?” Draco demanded. “The man in the portrait that was hung here two days ago?”

Cosmo scratched at his ear with the wicked looking hook – the hand it had replaced a casualty of his dangerous career. “That foul-tempered bilge rat with a tongue like the edge of me cutlass?”

“Yes, that would be the one,” Draco said. “I need to talk to him.”

“Why would y’ waste time talking to that scurvy dog?” Cosmo asked.

“Because he has information that I need – and he’s probably hiding out somewhere just to spite me,” Draco said, rubbing at his temples in frustration. “And please cease the pirate blather, Uncle Cosmo. I’m not a child to be enthralled by that affectation.”

Cosmo harrumphed and flipped his long, wavy blond tresses over his shoulder. “You were much more fun when you were a child, Draco,” he said, his now cultured voice devoid any hint of the pirate persona – and sounding disturbingly like Lucius Malfoy. “And you never come see us anymore.”

“Well, you heard what Snape told us,” a woman in very expensive-looking – and low-cut – gown of deep crimson said. The portrait she inhabited was far older than Cosmo’s. “Draco has a genuine hero now to keep him company. He doesn’t need us anymore.”

“Gossipy bastard!” Draco said, and wished dearly that Snape was there so he could say it to his face. “Persephone, I promise I haven’t thrown you over for a hero. You’re still the only woman I’ve ever really loved.”

“Aside from his mother,” Cosmo muttered.

“Of course he loves his mother,” Persephone said. “But that’s different.” She lifted a hand toward Draco as if she could hope to reach out and touch him. “Darling boy, the least you could do is bring your hero to meet us.”

“I will,” Draco said. “I promise. Now, do you have any idea where Snape might be? It’s really very, very important that I speak with him.”

Persephone shook her head sadly, and several other nearby portraits murmured in the negative. Cosmo cleared his throat and used his hook to fluff the lacy front of his shirt – obviously trying to seem disinterested.

“What do you know, Uncle Cosmo?” Draco asked. 

“Me? Well, I possess a vast knowledge of diverse topics,” Cosmo said. “Might even be able to give you some tips for that hero lad of yours,” he added with a wink.

“Not necessary,” Draco hurried to assure him. “What do you know about Snape?”

Cosmo looked a bit put out, but finally answered Draco more directly than he had so far. “Nothing much. Just that he mentioned you might come looking for him. Said to remind you that you told him you didn’t need his help and to figure it out on your own.”

“Damn it! Maybe I’ll just let Father incinerate the smug prick.”

The portraits seemed distressed by this idea. Cosmo spoke up. “Now don’t be rash, son. No need to talk of putting him to the torch. I’ll tell you what – I’ll keep an eye out for him, and as soon as he comes back, I’ll send you word. Perhaps Persephone can keep him distracted long enough for you to come and have a chance to talk to him.”

“For you, my dear, beautiful boy,” Persephone said. “I’ll do anything.”

“Thank you, Persephone. You, too, Cosmo.” Draco sighed and tried to release the tension from his body. He still had to go back and talk to the children. “I would genuinely appreciate your help.” He bade them good-bye and Apparated back to the dining room.

The children were still there, as he knew they would be. He’d charmed the room to keep anyone other than himself from leaving. The house-elves had served the meal, but it didn’t look as if any of the children had done more than pick at the food. Draco felt guilty for the earlier loss of his temper, so when he addressed them it was in a much calmer tone than he had last used.

“Professor Snape wasn’t in his portrait, so I wasn’t able to talk to him,” Draco explained. “I hoped to ask if he remembered the spell that was cast – or at the very least if he had any idea where Harry’s wand might be.”

Albus gave a quiet cough, then addressed Draco. “I’m sorry, Mr. Malfoy, for not telling you about the library.” 

“Thank you, Albus. And I apologize for losing my temper earlier,” Draco said. “I offer my apology to all of you.” He made a special point of catching Lily’s eye when he said this. She rewarded him with a hint of a smile and his heart twisted just a bit. He made the decision to confide in them – at least a bit. “I want you all to know that your father and I… well, we’ve become friends over the past year. So, I truly want to find a way to bring him back. Not only because he’s your father and you need him, but because he’s my friend, as well.”

The children didn’t immediately respond to this – but Draco hadn’t really expected them to. Finally James nodded and said, “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.” Then Lily and Albus smiled a bit and added their thanks, and Scorpius beamed at his father.

Draco seated himself at the table and a house-elf instantly appeared to serve him. Once he began to eat, the children turned back to their food and now seemed able to do more than push it about on their plates. Slowly, conversation began about things they’d done that day, things they hoped to do over the summer – the general chatter one would expect of children their age. Draco listened, content to let the sound of young voices fill the air around him. 

“Father!” Scorpius said suddenly, and Draco looked up at him. “Tomorrow is Thursday – market day!” The other children exchanged interested glances at this news. “Can we go?”

Thursday was, indeed, market day at one of the nearby Muggle towns. Though his own father abhorred the idea, Draco’s mother had often taken him when he was a small boy – usually while his father had seen to some business interests the family had in the town. Draco had made a habit of taking Scorpius every now and then, and his son enjoyed it every bit as much as Draco had when he was young. The market offered a wondrous variety of items, with stalls set up both outside on the streets and inside a large building. No doubt a hunt for treasure among the stalls would prove a much-needed diversion from the worry over Harry – and the wait for Snape to return.

******

Early the next day found them dressed and ready for an excursion to town of Devizes. The children were full of energy and anxious to leave as soon as possible. Even the baby seemed to have picked up on the excitement and was chattering happily as he clutched Henri the dragon.

Draco Transfigured the pram Scorpius had used as a baby into one of the new-fangled (and no doubt Muggle-made), light-weight strollers – like the one Astoria used for Genevieve during their visit. Once he had Harry, and Henri, secured, he stood and surveyed the rest of the group. And frowned.

“What is it, Father?” Scorpius asked, looking down at himself and over at the others to try to determine the source of his father’s consternation.

“Well,” Draco said, “Devizes is predominately Muggle. But - there are a few Wizarding families and businesses there.” He addressed the Potter children. “I know your parents have attempted to limit your exposure to the media and, therefore, the public at large. However, I’d be very surprised if most wizards didn’t recognize you as the children of Harry Potter.

James rolled his eyes and Albus and Lily both made faces. “They do,” James agreed. “We’re kind of used to it. Usually it’s not too bad.”

“’Course, usually Dad’s there to keep things under control,” Albus said. 

Draco was struck by the sadness in his tone. He’d had the feeling that, of all the children, Albus was the least concerned about Harry’s condition. Perhaps the excitement of getting to spend extra time with his best-friend was beginning to wear off, and he realized that reversing his father’s de-aging was not something to be put off indefinitely. Scorpius must have noticed this, too, because he reached up and placed a hand on Al’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Scorpius said. “Father’s going to put things to right. And in the mean time, he’ll keep any of your dad’s fans in line. He can be kind of scary when he wants to be.”

None of the children appeared inclined to argue with that estimation, and Draco didn’t know if he should feel chuffed or offended. But there was no time to worry about it. There were adjustments to be made before they could leave on their outing. He drew his wand and walked toward the children.

“Prepare yourselves, Potters,” he said as he stopped in front of James. “Today, you will be Malfoys.” With a flourish of his wand, he charmed James’ auburn hair to white-blond.

As the other children giggled, and James looked around toward the large mirror in the hall, Draco evaluated the result. “Hmmm, better do the eyes as well,” he said, and changed James’ eyes from brown to grey.

“Me next!” Lily said eagerly. As soon as Draco had changed her to a grey-eyed blonde, she ran to the mirror, laughing delightedly at the difference in her appearance. James must have decided that, since Lily had gone to the mirror for obvious gawking, it would be permissible for him to do so as well. This left Albus and Scorpius standing in front of Draco.

Scorpius laughed. “Can’t wait to see this,” he said to Albus. “We’re going to look like brothers!”

Albus’ grin and enthusiastic “Cool!” made Draco’s heart skip a beat. He looked at the two friends and dared to hope that they really would be agreeable to idea of becoming brothers. He didn’t realize he was just staring at the two boys until Albus looked at him in confusion.  
“Aren’t you going to make me a Malfoy?” Albus asked, smiling expectantly.

Draco’s smirk insisted on becoming a grin. “Absolutely,” he said, and changed the messy dark hair that was so like Harry’s into, well, messy _blond_ hair. Over Scorpius’ laughter, Draco said, “No need to change your eyes, I suppose. The green will do.” 

“I think so, too,” Scorpius said, and tugged at Albus’ arm as they ran over to the mirror.

While the other children admired their altered appearances, Draco knelt in front of the stroller. Harry smiled at him and babbled something – of great import, no doubt. Draco reached out and tugged gently at a lock of the soft, dark hair. 

“I almost hate to do this,” he said quietly. “At least you still look like my Harry. Just a very tiny version. That drools.” The baby squealed and waved the dragon in the air. “Well, say what you like, young man. But Henri has lodged an official complaint.” In response, Harry clutched the dragon to him, and immediately began to chew on the ear. Shaking his head, Draco lifted his wand. Within a moment, the baby was blond. “I’m not changing your eyes, though,” Draco told the child. “Just can’t bring myself to do it.” Harry squealed again, and Draco decided to take that for approval.

******

Draco rose early with the baby the next day. A gentle rain was falling, making the morning cooler than the recent days had been. Little Harry, dressed in a soft, warm romper, snuggled beside Draco on a sofa in the drawing room. The feet of Harry’s romper each had a tiny cloth Snitch attached to them that jingled when he moved, and this had kept him thoroughly distracted for several minutes. Henri the dragon sat close by, appearing to supervise.

The children were being slug-a-beds, evidently exhausted after their day in town. It had been a rousing success. The market delighted them, and each had found and purchased a treasure to commemorate the day. After the market, they spent some time at the Green where the children entertained themselves with an impromptu game they devised with an empty plastic drink container. Draco was never certain of the rules, but the children seemed to know what they were doing. He and Harry sat to the side, the baby much more interested in chewing on the little hat he refused to keep on his head. Draco had cast charms to keep him from getting sun-burnt.

It was obvious that everyone had needed this little time out and about. The children seemed energized, and the only squabbling that occurred was of a good-natured sort. While James wandered off to flirt with some girls who had been hanging about, Draco and the others walked around Crammer Pond. The boys were intrigued by the eighteenth century tale of the men who had hidden casks of brandy in the pond to avoid paying a tax on the goods. The story the smugglers had concocted to avoid discovery by the excise men had led to the legend of the Moonrakers. Scorpius and Albus had discussed at length the merits and pitfalls of the life of a smuggler and determined to visit again soon with Uncle Cosmo. Lily simply loved the word ‘moonraker’ and could be overheard chanting it softly in a singsong voice throughout the rest of the afternoon. 

They had finally returned to the Manor late in the afternoon. Harry was fast asleep, and Draco put him to bed almost as soon as they’d walked through the door. He did take a moment to remove the charm on the child’s hair, returning it to the more familiar black. James also requested the removal of the charm – possibly in defiance of Albus teasing him that the girls had only been interested in him because of the blond hair. Lily had decided to keep her blonde hair for a bit longer, but asked Draco to change her eyes back to brown. That precipitated more mirror gazing that kept her occupied for much of the rest of the evening. Albus and Scorpius were still enthralled with the idea of looking like brothers – despite James’ insistence that they looked nothing of the sort – and asked to keep Albus blond for a while.

The children all turned in early, and Draco took advantage of that by catching up on some rest as well. It also seemed the wise thing since the baby tended to awaken at the crack of dawn. Perhaps it was the rainy, overcast sky that made it seem much earlier than it actually was when Lily joined Draco and Harry in the drawing room.

“Good morning, Lily,” Draco said. He waved one of Harry’s hands so that the baby seemed to greet her as well.

“Good morning,” she said quietly. She came over to the sofa and bent to kiss the baby’s cheek, earning a giggle from the child. She smiled at him, but then her expression sobered as she turned to Draco. She stood before him, very still, as if trying to decide what to say. 

“Lily? Is something the matter?” Draco’s words seemed to shake her from her reverie. 

She took a step closer to him and, so like her father, met his gaze with obvious determination. “I need to tell you something, Mr. Malfoy. Because I… I trust you.”

“Yes?” he prompted. Draco had a feeling that Lily was finally going to come clean about whatever she had been hiding. He was not disappointed.

“I didn’t use my dad’s wand when I cast that spell,” she said. “I… I used this one.”

Draco hadn’t noticed that she had been hiding something in the fold of the summer dress she wore. Slowly she lifted the object up to show him – and Draco’s stomach dropped. In her small hand, Lily Potter held ten inches of hawthorn with a core made from the hair of a unicorn. The wand – Draco’s originally – was the instrument her father had used to vanquish the Dark Lord.

“Lily-” 

“I know,” she hurried to say. “I’m not supposed to have it. Dad keeps it put away. But Professor Snape said if I really wanted to try to cast the spells I needed to use a real wand. He said it would be okay to use it.”

Draco was stunned. “He did?” Over the course of his many visits to Harry’s house, Draco had learned that, although Severus had established rules of conduct that included set times when small people were allowed into his sanctuary, he seemed to have a soft spot when it came to Lily. In his own words, Snape had told Draco that the girl was not too much of a nuisance - and her red hair did remind Severus of her namesake. 

“He didn’t mean any harm!” Lily assured him. “He was just trying to help me learn the spells.”

Draco didn’t want to upset her now that she’d worked up the courage to confide in him. “I don’t think he’d do anything to harm you, Lily. But Professor Snape had no right to encourage you in something you both knew your father wouldn’t approve of.”

She hung her head and whispered, “I know. I guess I just wanted to have something special. James has the map and now Albus has the cloak. There’s nothing else left for me.” She turned big, brown eyes upon him. “I wasn’t going to keep it. I promise!”

Harry had confided in him regarding the Marauder’s Map and the Cloak of Invisibility, so Draco knew what Lily was referring to. He took her hand and pulled her into a hug. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him back fiercely. She was wearing a small smile when she pulled away from him. A coo from little Harry drew their attention. Lily knelt in front of the sofa and hugged the baby.

“I hope you won’t be angry,” she said to Harry. He gave her a slobbery smile and giggled. Then she stood again and handed the wand to Draco.

“Thank you, Lily. Now – let’s see what this wand can tell us.” Without further ado, Draco cast _Prior Incantato_. The spell that was revealed was _Sicut Erat Ante_. 

“That’s it!” Lily said. “That’s the spell!”

Draco arched a brow. “That’s not one of the spells you wrote on your list.” As he had expected, the list that Lily had created included only the common first-year spells. Draco was certain this spell was not part of the curriculum for any level student at Hogwarts.

“That’s because it’s not one of the spells I taught her,” Albus said from the doorway. Scorpius was standing close behind, and he nudged Albus forward. They stood before Draco and, when Albus didn’t elaborate on his comment, Scorpius nudged him again. Albus elbowed him back before reluctantly looking up to meet Draco’s gaze. “She must have spied on me when I was practicing… some other spells.”

“I wasn’t spying!” Lily insisted.

“Yes, you were!” Albus said. “You just weren’t any good at it or you would have got the spell right!”

Draco intervened before an argument escalated between the two siblings. “Don’t start!” Draco said, standing and stepping between the two. “Lily, go sit beside Harry. Now, Albus, what spell _were_ you ‘practicing’ that Lily overheard and miscast as a spell that would make someone ‘as he was before’?

Again Albus hesitated and, again, Scorpius nudged him. “Just tell him, Al.”

Albus rolled his eyes and looked at his friend in disbelief. “You are not the least bit Slytherin at all – you know that, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Scorpius said, and folded his arms across his chest defensively. “I’m a Ravenclaw, remember?”

“Albus – please,” Draco said. “Tell me the spell you were trying to cast. I want to make sure I understand the family of spells we’re dealing with before I try to reverse the one Lily cast.” Albus was looking less stubborn, and now simply appeared embarrassed at being caught out. “I know it’s nothing you would learn in any class at Hogwarts. _Sicut Erat Ante_ \- a spell to return someone to a former state – would be the kind of magic that would be frowned upon because of the havoc it could wreak in a person’s life.”

“That’s true,” Scorpius said. “We read all about how that spell had been used in the past by regents who wished to prolong their reign by keeping the rightful heir too young to take the throne.” His voice had taken on the fervor of a scholar, fascinated by newly discovered knowledge. Albus rolled his eyes again.

“And _where_ did you read this?” Draco asked. He was certain he knew the answer without being told.

“Oh! Umm…” Scorpius had obviously realized that he’d given away more than he’d intended – and understood Albus’ current frustration with him. “Umm…”

“The Restricted Section!” Albus cried. “Alright? I admit it. We were in the Restricted Section!”

“We?” Draco asked – despite the fact that it was _obvious_ that Albus Potter had been sneaking into the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts with the assistance of none other than Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Though he took care to conceal it, Draco felt near to bursting with pride. His son might just have inherited some Slytherin genes after all!

“Whoa!! You’re going to be in so much trouble!” James said, clearly undisturbed by the thought.

No one had noticed James enter the room, but he must have at least heard the last confession. They all just watched as he dropped down onto the sofa and sat next to the baby. Draco then turned his attention back to Albus – who was now glaring at his brother. 

“Let’s focus on the spell, please. And on getting your father back,” Draco said firmly. “Albus, what was the spell you were trying to cast?”

Albus sighed and looked at Scorpius. After the other boy nodded encouragingly, Albus said. “I was trying to learn _Ut Erat Ante_.”

“’As it was before’?” Draco said. What could the boys be trying to restore? To make something as it was before implied going beyond a simple _Reparo_. That spell was quite common for mending objects that had been broken. “To take something back to a previous state could be… tricky,” Draco warned. “Not to mention, dangerous. Sometimes the way a thing evolves, the natural changes that occur – those have an impact upon other things around it. If you change one thing, it could have a ripple effect and make changes to other things as well – ones you didn’t intend.”

“We know,” Scorpius said. “We haven’t used it. And we were going to talk to the Headmistress before we tried or anything.”

“Tried what?” Draco asked.

“To fix Hogwarts,” Albus said. “Some of the sections of the school never were restored after the war because a _Reparo_ or any of those kinds of spells weren’t strong enough or whatever to counter all the magical damage that had been done.”

“We just thought it was a shame that it seems as if everyone has just given up on it,” Scorpius added.

“That’s… exceedingly noble of you,” Draco said, immediately suspicious. Maybe it was his Slytherin nature to approach things from that perspective – but it seemed to Draco that sneaking into the Restricted Section would not be the go-to plan of someone with strictly altruistic motives. He decided, however, that getting his Harry back was the more pressing priority than figuring out what Albus and Scorpius were really up to. “But let’s save this fascinating topic for another day. Lily,” Draco turned to address her, “did you think you were casting the same spell you had heard Albus practicing? Rather than the one we now know that you cast?”

“Well, I was practicing it the way I thought it was supposed to be,” Lily said. “Professor Snape told me I was doing it wrong. He’s the one who told me I should say ‘Sicut’ instead of ‘Ut’. He said it was a more effective spell that way.”

“Oh,” Draco said, “did he now?” That bastard! Draco wasn’t sure how he’d accomplished it, but Severus Snape was somehow responsible for Harry’s return to nappies. Maybe he’d talk Harry into hanging the evil prick back at Grimmauld Place – right across from the portrait of Walburga Black. That would serve him right for pulling this stunt. “Well, we’ll deal with Professor Snape later. Right now, let’s see what we can do for your dad.”

He instructed the children to move away from the baby. Harry was left sitting alone on the sofa. He looked momentarily forlorn but then grabbed Henri and seemed content enough. He seemed even happier when, after covering him with a large blanket, Draco banished his clothing. Why were babies always happier when nude? 

The process of figuring out how to correct a mis-cast spell was fairly basic. Always start with the most obvious: cast _Finite Incantatem_. Draco didn’t expect it to work, which would then require him to move on to attempt more complicated solutions. But, now that he knew which spell had actually been cast, and the circumstances of the casting, he felt confident that starting with _Finite_ would not cause any harm or further unexpected consequences for Harry. And so: “ _Finite Incantatem_!”

To the great surprise of Draco and the complete delight and relief of the children, the adult Harry Potter now sat upon the sofa in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. He looked equally surprised and delighted – if a little confused.

“Draco?” Harry asked. Because the baby Harry had not worn glasses, grown-up Harry was not wearing them either. He squinted up at Draco, trying to focus on something he recognized. “What happened? I seem to recall… I think there was a spell… I don’t know.” He shook his head as if to dispel his confusion. “My brain is as fuzzy as my vision.” He grinned then and reached out to grab Draco’s hand to pull him forward. “But you’re here with me, and I’m not wearing any clothes, so it can’t be too bad, right?” 

Harry pulled Draco down onto his lap and earnestly set about trying to snog him. Over Draco’s embarrassed resistance, Harry must have heard someone say, ‘ _Accio Dad’s glasses_ ’ because he whipped his head around, looking for the source of the voice.

“James? Albus?”

Just then, the glasses – that James had brought from the Potter home and saved for just this moment – came flying into the room. Someone caught and handed them to Harry, and he quickly put them on. Draco’s face came into focus first, and Harry’s happy grin got even bigger.  
Draco tried to smirk in return, but knew his grin was probably as wide as Harry’s. And – since Harry had inadvertently just outed them – he ceased any resistance, put his arms around Harry’s shoulders and settled in comfortably on his lap. “Welcome back, Harry.” Then he leaned in and captured Harry lips in an enthusiastic demonstration to reinforce the sentiment.

The kiss didn’t last long. There was giggling and a delighted squeal (Lily’s, Draco assumed), and then James said, “You know he’s still starkers, right?”

Harry was now obviously flustered at the realization he was naked and so distracted by snogging Draco that he forgot about their audience. “Um… sorry, kids. I’m… still a little disoriented.” Harry allowed Draco to slide from his lap and sit beside him on the sofa. “Why _am_ I naked?” he asked quietly, as he pulled the blanket more securely around him – and found a blue dragon plushie within the within the folds of his covering. Harry’s confusion quickly morphed to delight and back to confusion, though he didn’t relinquish his hold on the dragon. He turned once more to Draco, begging silently for some kind of explanation. Then he looked around and saw that something – beside his nudity – was amiss. “And why are my kids blond?”

“We’re Malfoys!” Lily said.

“We’re brothers,” Albus and Scorpius chimed in together.

“He’s _still_ starkers,” James said pointedly to Draco.

Draco moved back a bit and flicked his wand. His muttered incantation transformed the blanket into a set of everyday robes. Harry feet, however, were clad in slippers with those tiny cloth snitches. It was enough for Lily, though, and she flung herself at her father, taking the place on his lap that Draco no longer occupied.

“I’m so glad you’re back!” she said, and hid her face against his shoulder  
.  
Harry’s smile gentled and he cuddled his daughter closer. Then he looked up in surprise when Albus slipped onto the sofa beside him.  
“I’m glad you’re back, too,” Albus said quietly. Harry slid one arm around Albus’ shoulders and pulled him close.

Draco rose and moved beside Scorpius, leaving room for James on the couch with the rest of the Potters. James moved forward but didn’t sit however, instead just waited until Harry looked up at him.

“James? Are you okay?” Harry asked.

James grinned. “Yeah, I’m okay. Mr. Malfoy took care of all of us.”

“Yeah,” said Albus. He broke free of his father’s embrace – looking a bit self-conscious – and returned to stand beside Scorpius. “So, can Scorpius and his dad come and stay a few days with us now?” Albus asked. “That way – um… if you want to,” Albus’ lips twitched, “you and Mr. Malfoy can keep snogging.” Then he burst out laughing, and he and Scorpius collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“What’s wrong with them?” Harry asked of no one in particular.

“They are twelve,” Draco answered, assuming that would be enough of an explanation.

“Stop laughing,” Lily said firmly. She had moved off of Harry’s lap and now stood over the two still giggling on the floor. “They can kiss if they want to.”

“Yeah, they can,” James said. “But who wants to see it? It’s almost as bad as Mum and Dean.” He moved toward the door and added, “I’m gonna go get my stuff.”

“Help Lily with hers, if you will,” Draco called after him.

“Okay,” James said, turning back to hold his hand out to Lily. “Come on, Lils.”

Harry looked at Draco, still a bit dazed, but smiling. “Well?” he asked. “Want to come home with me for a couple of days? We have permission to snog and everything.”

Albus and Scorpius had finally managed to contain their mirth and were standing before their fathers – obviously waiting for Draco’s answer. The moment Draco said, “Go gather your things” they shot from the room with whoops of excitement.  
“I guess you have a lot to tell me,” Harry said, allowing Draco to pull him up from the sofa.

“I do,” Draco said, leading Harry from the drawing room, with an arm around his waist. “But it can wait until we’re settled in at yours. It’s quite the tale.”

“Hey,” Harry said, looking down at his feet as they walked. “They’re snitches. Ha! And they jingle!”

“You are so easily amused.” Draco smirked, but rolled his eyes, as well.

Harry pulled him close. “I’m easy about a lot of things when it comes to you.”

This kiss was softer than the earlier one and filled with promise. Or at least – it started that way. Weeks of separation had left them hungry for each other. Harry’s hand cradled Draco’s jaw as the kiss deepened. Their tongues stoked and teased as lips and teeth caressed and nipped. Harry slid his other hand down to cup Draco’s arse, using the motion to pull their bodies into more intimate alignment. Simultaneous moans escaped them when their erections pressed together.

“Mmmm… my mistake,” Harry murmured. “Seems I’m hard when it comes to you.” 

Draco shivered at the husky whisper. “Careful, Potter. We’re entering a whole new phase of our relationship – learning to control ourselves in an effort to avoid shocking the children.”

“They’ll be okay,” Harry said. Though, at the mention of the children he did, with reluctance, move back to put some physical distance between them. “And we’ll be okay. And between snogs you can tell me what happened. Then we can work out things like living arrangements and wedding plans.”

“And babies!” Draco said, tugging on Harry to get him moving again.

Harry, however, was rooted to the spot. “Babies? Umm… _our_ babies?” Harry’s brow furrowed as he watched Draco nodding and smiling. “How do we…”

“There are several options, Harry,” Draco assured him. “But we have plenty of time for that. First, there’s a tale of mis-cast magic and nappies and a wicked, ex-Potions professor…”

The End. Sort of.


End file.
